She Shall Be Loved
by Rosa Cotton
Summary: Idis told herself Faramir was simply being kind, polite, or friendly. That was the ONLY possible explanation for his behavior. First draft-verse, AU.


Disclaimer: _The Lord of the Rings_, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J. R. R. Tolkien's estate.

Dedicated: For **Oluhasuu**, who made me feel guilty for never allowing Faramir to win the fair maiden.

* * *

She Shall Be Loved

Idis did not read anything into it at the time. Exchanging greetings and bows with Lord Faramir. His offering a small bouquet with an amiable smile before they parted ways.

Burying her nose amongst the fresh blossoms, Idis was reminded of her first visit here to Minas Tirith: keeping an eye on five-year-old Eowyn and seven-year-old Faramir as they played in the gardens. Smiling with delight when they proudly presented her with the flowers they had picked.

* * *

Eventually, Idis noticed Faramir tended to detain her when their paths crossed in one of the countless halls, to ask a question or share a story. He had never done that before. In the past, that happened only when the lady was with her cousin, Eowyn. Yet, Idis reasoned, Faramir always had been a kind and polite young man. (As her father had told her more than once, "It is important to be on good terms with those who you will come to call family.")

* * *

She kept telling herself that every time when, sitting down to tea with her kin and host, Faramir quietly asked permission to claim the seat beside her. Yet she pushed aside her puzzlement, focusing instead on their conversation; and stepping in as peacemaker if the arguing between Boromir and Eowyn threatened to become too intense.

* * *

The library was one of Idis's favorite places in Minas Tirith. She had read many of its books over the years. Now it was also a haven: safety from the whispers, tracking eyes filled with pity, and the steward's sharp tongue. (Hardly any thought to seek her out there.)

She was well aware of being considered not a proper princess. She had left behind the days of her youth long ago when she lost her mother, brother, uncle, and aunt. She supported and comforted her heartbroken father; raised her orphaned cousins. Such sorrow, responsibilities, and cares weighed on her slim shoulders.

She had known long before the looks and comments begun. How she'd lost her bloom. How grave, serious she was. How old she appeared. How she would remain by her father, stand in the shadow of the golden throne for the rest of her days. How she would be forgotten.

One afternoon, blushing and surprised, she accepted the books Faramir lent her from his personal collection, his expression hopeful, and voice earnest. For once, Idis forgot herself – to bow, offer thanks, take leave – and escaped quickly from the library, the books pressed tightly to her chest. She wondered if the lord knew what such a gesture meant amongst her people. Instantly she scolded herself for thinking such a thing, and willed her heart to cease pounding.

* * *

It was the night Denethor held a huge feast, and Lord Faramir switched with his brother to escort the Lady Idis into the great hall. His eyes were twinkling, soft, full of admiration and _something else _she dared not guess. The smile he bestowed her with as she took his arm was both shy and happy. Resolutely looking forward, she realized – impossible or not, fancy or true – what she must do.

She avoided him.

* * *

"My lady, have I offended you?"

Idis's gaze jumped up to encounter Faramir's stare, a worried frown on his face. A long moment passed as they gazed at each other. Here on the balcony the merriment of Boromir's birthday ball seemed faint and far away.

Over a week Idis had succeeded in avoiding Faramir. Yet he could be determined and stubborn like his father; thus it had been a matter of time before he caught up to her. And now, she mused, with his face bathed by both the glow of the torch and moonlight, he looked every inch the twenty-two-year-old lord and captain that he was.

He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping, sadness replacing his worried expression. She blinked at him.

"Forgive me. I did not realize my attentions were unwanted—"

"No!" she interrupted. "I-I mean, you were...sincere?"

"I would not jest about something as serious as courtship, Lady Idis," Faramir claimed firmly. "Did you not know?" he asked when Idis simply looked at him in amazement.

She shook her head. Slowly she replied, "I refused to believe what I was seeing. Kept telling myself it wasn't possible, a misunderstanding. I suspected you and Eowyn—"

The young man chuckled. "Nay! I assure you I have no intentions towards your cousin. I shudder to think what my brother would do if I did. Though he is taking a long time to come to the point."

"Oh!" The lady thought back on witnessing various arguments, having discussions with Eowyn, with new comprehension. "But I do not understand why you would wish to court me. I am not young, over a decade older than you. Nor am I a beauty. Your father disapproves of me. I'm only…" Lifting her hands, Idis helplessly examined her coarse, wrinkled palms.

Stepping closer, Faramir laid his palms over hers, gently curling his fingers around them.

"You are kind, loyal, generous, courageous, and strong. You're a Shieldmaiden of Rohan, a warrior; yet your touch can be gentle, your words comforting." Looking deeply into Idis's grey eyes, the lord's voice grew stronger. "You are a daughter of kings, a symbol of hope to your people, not having given in to bitterness and despair over the sorrow and hardships you have faced. You are respected and loved by many, Idis," he ended quietly.

Idis stared at Faramir, her lips slightly parted, eyes shining with wonder. His words washed over her like a gentle wave, soothing, warming, and something in her eased. Heat rose in her cheeks. And her heart skipped a beat at his simply using her name, hearing the unspoken,_ and by me_. She glanced down at their joined hands.

"May I start afresh?" he asked, voice trembling a little.

She looked up again. The uncertainty, longing was clear in how his lips pressed into a firm line, his shoulders tensed, his eyes flickered over her face. He squeezed her hands.

"May I be given a chance to prove myself to you?"

For a long moment Idis studied him. Slowly, she smiled. "You may have more than one chance, Faramir," she promised.

"Truly?" he whispered.

"Truly."

Faramir straightened to his full height. The smile which spread across his face was clear and tender. "Thank you," he murmured deeply.

Then he lifted her hands to his lips.

THE END

* * *

Author's Note: Idis belongs to Tolkien. She appeared very briefly in his original draft for _The Two Towers_ before being overshadowed by Eowyn's story and discarded.


End file.
